


dulcedo

by moloch



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: M/M, Piano
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 04:34:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moloch/pseuds/moloch
Summary: oliver has a request.





	dulcedo

“You’re very good at that, you know.”

I had no inkling of how he could creep up on me like that, what with the weak floorboards in every crevice of our house groaning whenever you so much as looked at them. But there he was, talking into my ear, low voice grazing my skin. A light exhale, my fingers stumbled on the keys; but I stubbornly kept my composure and moved through the passage stalwartly.

“I know.”

That’d get a chuckle from him. As a sharper exhale left through his nose, his form of stifling laughter, I smirked, mainly to myself. Muscle memory was getting me through this _Prelude_. If he kept bothering me, however, the _Fugue_ would prove more challenging. I shrugged my shoulder gently so he got the point and moved away slightly.

Silence fell as I continued through the harder bit of the piece, my right hand quite literally jumping around after long runs along the piano. The minor key had set a darker tone on the room before I had known I wasn’t alone. With Oliver looming over me, it now seemed more playful than anything else. The piece ended on an almost uncomfortable major chord, which I knew would startle him — and naturally, I heard the amused breath out of his lungs after it was played. Before he could say anything, I launched into the _Fugue_ , refusing to let him distract me. He was distracting enough just lazing about in the same room as me.

I stifled the urge to hum along to the melody line, Gould-esque, and ended the second piece, again on a major chord.

“You’re interrupting my practice time, Oliver.” I muttered, flicking my hair aside and leaning into his space, moving my hands from the keys and taking my foot off the left pedal. I hadn’t wanted it to be too loud. He remained unmoving, and I grazed my eyes up to meet his. “What’s the use of my transcriptions if I’m just going to be _interrupted_ all the time by Americans?”

I watched his lips quirk gently. “American _s_?” he parroted back, dwelling on the _sss_. “What other silly individuals from the states are you wasting your time with?”

“None,” I scoffed. “My time is very precious, you know that.” With that, I flipped my right hand over and rested it on the highest keys, palm up. With a very dramatic glissando, I dragged my hand down the length of the keyboard and quickly transitioned into the first chords of the third Gershwin Prelude, just for shock value. And I’d never played jazz for him before.

When I had finished, the final notes rang through the room slightly. It wasn’t too abrasive, however, the acoustics in the nearly fully wooden room weren’t the greatest. Oliver leaned into the side of the piano anyway, clapping thrice loudly and deliberately. I knew Americans liked jazz. “That was fun! Didn’t know you had it in you,” he offered, crossing his arms and still leaning into my piano. I raised a single eyebrow at him, my gaze moving from his eyes to his mouth to his hip against the body of the grand, back to his hip — “But don’t you know anything sweet?”

My eyes snapped back up to his. “ _Sweet_?” I echoed.

“Sweet. You speak French. The French know sweet.”

My eyebrow shot upwards again. “The French know heartache and lamentation. The French don’t know _sweet_.”

“Elio, we could argue about this for the rest of the time I’m here, but I’m just saying all I want is something sweet.” He leaned away then, fluidly removing his presence from my space. I tilted my head more to the side to indulge in seeing him walk away.

I couldn’t tell if that was a euphemism or an actual request. Or both.

God. I learned back into nothingness, staring at the white of the ivory keys. Men were so hard to decipher.

**Author's Note:**

> pieces, in order:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PIS76X17Mf8 (bach prelude & fugue in d minor, from the WTC book 1)  
> https://youtu.be/PzzIwVh9-jE?t=295 (gershwin prelude no. 3 -- allegro ben ritmato e deciso)
> 
> title from the latin; "sweetness"
> 
> this is left open-ended (and short & sweet - ha!) for the time being to promote the urge in myself to decide whether or not to write more, and where specifically this story is going. tags & warnings are staying as they are for the time being. 
> 
> and if you're familiar with this account; hello! a little turn from my usual meet-cutes in basic fandoms. i watched this movie just now and was left with an emptiness i can only fill via piano fix-it fic. side note; i went to high school with timothee and seeing him so successful is so daunting and satisfying!


End file.
